


A Study of Winter

by storiesinthedark



Series: The Winter Tales [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Christmas Party, 221B Ficlet, Bondlock, Fluff, Gen, Holmes Holiday Party, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Eve, Skiing, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesinthedark/pseuds/storiesinthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve 221B ficlets for the Let's Write Sherlock challenge illustrate the life of the residents of Baker Street during the winter months. From awkward family dinners to competitive Cluedo to ridiculous reasons to be called to a crime scene, anything can happen. </p><p>Each ficlet can be read individually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More Than a Dusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1: Snowed In

Sherlock lurked at the window, opening the curtains partially to stare down at the street below. Thick, white powder coated the pavement as well as the street, rendering them unusable by cars and people alike. 

“It’s still snowing. Hateful,” he growled, turning away and throwing himself upon the sofa. He stared up at the ceiling, hands steepled beneath his chin. 

John glanced over from his desk, shutting his laptop carefully and folding his hands on its lid. “Relieved to see it’s still snowing, I see.” He settled back into his chair, a small smirk on his lips. 

Sherlock sat up quickly, swinging his feet to the floor with a loud thump. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t just sit around here letting my brain rot like _some_ people.” 

“Then don’t.” John pushed himself up from his chair and headed toward the fireplace. He lit a match on the box in one smooth motion and tossed it into the stack of logs in the fireplace, watching as the fire began to take hold. He sat down in front of the fire on the floor. 

Bare feet approached him from behind. “What are you doing?” Sherlock dropped to a crouch next to John. 

John turned to look at Sherlock and quickly kissed his cheek. “What does it look like?” 

“Brilliant.”


	2. The Knock on the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Gift Giving

Molly stared at the brightly colored box that lay on her doormat. It was strange. The doorbell had only rung a moment ago, and she hadn’t heard any footsteps walking away. She pulled her coat tight in around her and stepped out further, leaving the box sitting on the doormat as she stepped over it. 

She looked down the street in both directions. Traffic moved as usual on the adjacent streets. No cars moved down her ice-slushed one. She looked at the pavement, though it also appeared undisturbed. 

Molly pressed her lips together in a thin line, quickly turning around and stepping over the box. Nearly back inside, she turned and slowly bent to pick up the brightly colored package. A tag with a reindeer on it revealed itself from underneath the gift. She flipped the package over and stared at the tag. The jagged script read: ‘Thank you, Molly Hooper. Happy Christmas.’ The tag wasn’t signed. A smiled tugged at the corner’s of her mouth and tucked the box close to her coat before turning around and closing the door behind her.

Once inside, she released her coat and began pulling at the edges of the wrapping paper, revealing a small white box. She pulled off the lid to reveal a blue sapphire flower hair pin. 

She smiled. “Beautiful.”


	3. Just a Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Meeting the Family

“Now, please. Please. Don’t try to be clever. Just be nice,” John said, pulling on his green parka. He looked over to Sherlock, who sat perched on a stool over a petri dish in the kitchen, a pipette held perfectly steady in his hand. Sherlock turned to stare at John. 

“Don’t give me that look, Sherlock.” 

“What look?”

“The look. The ‘you’re being stupid and saying things I’m going to ignore’ look.” 

Sherlock turned back to his petri dish and dropped a drop of blue liquid. The contents began to bubble and Sherlock smiled. “I’m just going to be myself.”

John closed his eyes and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

\----  


John sat at the table, head between his hands. “No. No. No. No.” He muttered to himself. He picked his head up, took a drink, and looked over toward the kitchen. 

“What are you two doing in there?” he called. 

“That’s none of your concern, Johnny,” Harry returned, clanking her glass down on the counter. “Sherlock and I are just having a nice conversation.” 

“That’s what worries me,” he mumbled. 

It would have to be John’s luck that the only other person Sherlock would get on with would be Harry. And the two of them were quite clearly plotting. 

“Bugger.”


	4. A Chance of Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: Winter Sports

“No. No, John. I’m not going.” 

“Sherlock! Seriously! We came all this way on a holiday and you’re just going to sit in the room?” 

Sherlock stared at John in the mirror as he pulled on his white and black striped jumper. He crossed his arms and sat back against the headboard of the bed. 

“Yes.” 

John turned to look directly at Sherlock, rolling his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed and began crawling up toward Sherlock. “Come on. Please?” 

“No, John. No. I will not strap planks to my feet and attempt to glide down a mountain. I will fall, and it will be awful.”

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“It can be, and it is. I don’t know why you insist on this. You’re as bad as Mycroft.” 

\-----

Sherlock stood at the top of the mountain. He grimaced as he watched the others effortlessly disembark from the chair lift and make their way down the mountain. John appeared next to him. 

“Thank you,” he said, a smile emerging from under the layers of scarf, coat, and goggles.

“You can thank me properly once I’ve made it down the mountain and we’re back in the room.” 

“Fair enough.” John pushed off from the top of the hill and glided gently down. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Bravo.”


	5. We Need to Decorate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 5: Awkward Holiday Party

The night of the third annual 221B Christmas party came quicker than either of the residents expected. The week was filled with two murders, only one of which Sherlock was able to solve by text, and an unexpected visit from Mycroft. Thus, an hour before the party, it came as no surprise that nothing was ready. 

“You can’t be serious,” Sherlock groaned, hands steepled beneath his chin as he laid on the sofa. 

“Yes, Sherlock. I am serious,” John huffed. “And this would go a lot faster if you actually were helping me with the decorations. People are going to start showing up soon.” 

“I don’t know why you’re even bothering,” Sherlock responded, hauling himself from the couch and walking toward John, dressing gown trailing behind him.

He stood next to John, who was on a chair, hanging up the mistletoe above the door. Sherlock placed his hand over John’s and helped secure it in place. 

“Was that so hard?” John turned to face Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked. He leaned forward and pulled John into a brief, light kiss. 

“Right,” John said. 

As luck would have it, at that very moment, Lestrade entered through the door. Sherlock pulled away and headed toward his bedroom. “I take it Sherlock won’t be joining us for the festivities this evening?” 

“Perhaps later,” John said, blushing.


	6. The Shell Catalogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 6: Holidaying Somewhere Warm

After months of snow and several cases involving frostbite victims, the scenery of the Bahamas was a welcome one. The sun appeared through the curtains and John rolled over, burying his face into Sherlock’s chest. 

“Too bright,” he whined. 

Sherlock stroked John’s hair. “Good morning to you, too.” 

John smiled up at Sherlock.

A knock on the door broke the moment between them. John pushed himself up and grabbed the dressing gown sitting on the chair in the hotel room. He walked to the door and answered it.

“Good morning, boys,” the voice outside the door chimed. 

“Morning, Greg.” 

“Breakfast downstairs?” 

John looked back to Sherlock. “Give us about fifteen minutes.” He smiled. 

\------

“I’m surprised you got ‘im down here, to be honest,” Lestrade said, taking a drink of his coffee. 

“It took some creative bribing...which included him getting to categorise all of the types of shells that wash up on the sand.” 

“Have fun with that.” 

“John! Let’s go!” Sherlock called from the door. “We have things to catalogue.” 

They walked along the beach hand in hand for a while, stopping every so often for Sherlock to pick up a shell and make a note of it before replacing it in the sand. 

“I love the ocean out here,” John said looking over at Sherlock. “It’s just beautiful.”


	7. Home Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 7: Overindulgence

The holidays were the worst. Lestrade sat at the dining room table staring at his watch. He’d been there for at least an hour. The candles had burned down halfway, and the extravagant dinner he had set out on the table had grown cold. 

Another five minutes passed before he blew the candles out. He began cleaning up the plates when he heard the lock to the door click open and footsteps in the foyer approach. Lestrade continued moving the plates to the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry.” The distraught voice grew louder as it approached the kitchen. “I wanted to be home two hours ago, but I was caught up in a budget meeting. I’m so sorry.” 

Lestrade stopped and turned to face Mycroft. “It’s okay. I saved dessert.” 

Mycroft smiled slightly as Lestrade approached and pulled Mycroft into a kiss. 

The two laid on the sofa for hours, Lestrade dripping strands of hot fudge into Mycroft’s mouth in between pecking kisses to his lips. Mycroft hummed in satisfaction and encouraged Lestrade to continue every time it seemed as if he may stop. 

“You know your brother’s only going to ridicule you for this when he sees me later and deduces what happened, right?” Lestrade ran his chocolate covered fingers over Mycroft’s lips. 

Mycroft sighed. “Yes, I know. The rather obnoxious berk.”


	8. Jennifer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 8: Taking a Tumble

The chase. It was always about the chase. The chase to catch the bad guy. The chase to solve the riddle. Or in this particular case, the chase of a small child through the kitchen.

Jennifer, John’s cousin’s four-year-old daughter, scurried past John heading into the kitchen carrying with her a blue scarf. Sherlock was not far behind. John observed the scene and rolled his eyes. 

Not a moment later, a scream and crying broke the relative calm of the gathering. John sighed as he headed toward the kitchen with military speed.

“Sherlock, I swear if you have hu--” John began, stopping almost immediately.

There on the floor of the kitchen sat Sherlock Holmes in his designer suit with a small blonde child curled up in his lap, sobbing. 

“It’s going to be all right.” Sherlock said, rubbing the child’s back. “It’s just a small tumble.” He stood her up and turned her to face him. “Look. Good as new.” 

Jennifer smiled brightly, her breathing returning to normal. Sherlock grinned. “There you are. Now off you go.” He tapped her back lightly and she ran off, blue scarf trailing behind her. 

Sherlock stood up and spotted John, smiling and leaning against the kitchen door frame. 

“What? She took a tumble,” Sherlock snapped.

“I didn’t say anything.” John grinned. “You lovely bastard.”


	9. Just Sit Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 9: Lazing About

The snow drifted down and settled on the pavement outside of 221B Baker Street, just as it had over the entire city of London. Just as it had for the past several weeks. Inside John and Sherlock cuddled together on the sofa, Sherlock’s head lying upon John’s lap with his legs stretched over the ends of the sofa. John flipped through the channels on the television, watching only a few seconds of each programme before switching to a new one. 

After ten minutes of continuously switching programmes, John shut the telly off and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. He hummed appreciatively. 

“John,” Sherlock said lowly, a soft purr following. 

“Yes, Sherlock?” John smiled. 

“Do you think I might persuade you in some way to procure me a cuppa?”

John rolled his eyes. “Lazy bastard.”

Sherlock smiled. “But, when you’re finished with that, we don’t have to do anything else. We can just sit here and not move.”

“How about we just sit here and not move and eventually I make us a cuppa?” John said. He leaned down briefly to place a kiss on Sherlock’s head. 

Sherlock stretched a bit, his toes curling as he snuggled into John.

“That could work. That could work very well.” Sherlock smirked. 

“Good. That’s good. Glad you agree...For once.” 

Sherlock looked up. “Breathtaking.”


	10. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 10: The Competitive Spirit

“That’s not the answer, Sherlock! It can’t be the answer!”

“It must be the answer, John! There is no other way that the murder could have happened.” 

John threw his cards on the table. “That’s not how the game is played and you know it.”

“Right...because that’s what’s important! Playing the game by the rules, and not actually figuring out who committed the murder!” Sherlock threw his hands in the air and stormed off toward the kitchen, leaving John, Q, and Bond sitting at the table. 

John shrugged and looked over at their guests, mouth pressed together in a fine line. Bond rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll take care of it. It’s my fault anyway,” Q whispered, before speaking louder. “It’s a game, Sherlock. You don’t get anything for winning. Unless you wanted to make that bet.” 

Sherlock swept back into the room and fixed his eyes on his guest. “That, dear brother, is a bet you will regret.” 

Q smirked. “Six games. You need to correctly deduce who the murderer is each game and you have to play by the rules.” 

“Childish.” 

“I’m not the one acting like a child. What do you say?” 

“Fine, let’s get on with it then.” Sherlock sat back down at the table. 

John shuffled the cards and prepped for the new game. Play began.


	11. Solved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 11: Muuuurder

The body was cold for nearly six hours by the time Sherlock arrived at the scene. 

“No John?” Lestrade asked.

“No. Busy,” Sherlock said, pulling out his magnifying glass and looking over the body. 

He stood up and circled the body again. 

“The facts, again,” Sherlock demanded. 

Lestrade sighed. “We’ve already been over them.”

“I need them again.” 

“Fine. Female, Twenty-two. No signs of struggle. Long clean cut mark over her throat indicates that she bled out. ”

Sherlock took one last look at the girl. He walked toward Lestrade and stared at him straight in the eye. “You’ve already solved this.” 

“No. That’s why you’re here,” Lestrade fumbled. 

“I can tell you’re lying by the twitch of your mouth. You always do that. Dead giveaway. This girl died six hours ago and had her throat slit by her eldest brother. You already have him in custody. And yet you brought me in to the scene after you’d solved it. That’s the real puzzle. Why? Why would you do that? You don’t like calling me in on a good day, so why would you call me in when you don’t need me to be here.” He paused briefly. “You’re nervous. Like you’re stalling for someone. I know. John asked you to call me in so he could buy my Christmas present.”

“Bastard.”


	12. A New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. Wild Card: Author’s Choice! 
> 
> Author Chose: New Year's Eve

Sherlock stood at the window in his red plaid dressing gown, violin down by his side. The lights from the other windows on Baker Street twinkled as he gazed up and down the street. In the distance he could see and vaguely hear the celebrations taking place. He rolled his eyes. 

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself as he turned from the window, closing the curtains behind him. He sighed and placed his violin under his neck. 

The song was melancholy and beautiful as it sang from the old violin. Sherlock moved with the music, eyes closed, his dressing gown flowing behind him. The music filled the room, covering the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Happy New Year, Sherlock,” the familiar voice said. 

Sherlock stopped playing for a moment but didn’t turn to face the voice. 

“I’m sorry. I just...You did it again. You alienated me without even so much as a reason and on the day when we’re supposed to be celebrating a year together.” 

Sherlock closed his eyes and held his breath. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” 

“Happy New Year, John,” he replied, turning around to face John. He tucked his violin under his arm and walked toward the man, pulling him into his arms. “I’m sorry.” 

He leaned down and kissed John. 

“Brilliant, you wonderful man. Just brilliant.”

**Author's Note:**

> This collection would not have been possible without the amazing beta work of [ come_anyway (gaffertapeandhope) ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/come_anyway/profile). She is absolutely amazing. I also have to thank those who I wrote with during the Antidiogenes Club in December. You guys were awesome in motivating me to keep writing. Brit-picked as best as I could. All mistakes there are my own.


End file.
